Here We Are With Nothing But This Little Spark
by rachhudson
Summary: She finishes writing, looks up at him, brown eyes bright. She doesn't let go of his hand. "I want you to call me," she says, "because I feel like we have a real connection, don't you?" AU


**hi, it's been a bit since i've posted a longer oneshot, so i hope this one doesn't show how rusty i am! it's been sort of a tradition to post a fic around my birthday for the past couple of years for me, and i really wanted to keep up with that, and, well, seeing as my birthday was yesterday (and cory's birthday is today) i think it counts :)**

**this originally stemmed from the drabble prompt of 'student/teacher finchel' but this definitely has a twist on that original plot!**

**thanks as always to my home girl mary gael for being amazing and putting up with my brand of crazy on the reg as well as reading snippets i send her and not telling me it's shit love ya nonsay!**

**title is from 'don't you' by darren criss :)**

* * *

_here we are with nothing but this little spark_

_i_.

His roommate, Sam, convinced him to come out tonight, and now, glancing around the hazy bar, Finn wonders why he agreed. He has school tomorrow morning, and his kindergartners are never relenting, even when he has a hangover.

Sam's not even really hanging out with him, talking animatedly about the latest edition of _Spider-Man_ to a girl who is clearly uninterested, but he doesn't seem to notice. Finn sighs, takes another swig from his bottle. So much for guy's night, he supposes.

He's on his third beer when he sees her, dark curtain of hair half hiding her face, but he can tell she's really pretty even through his alcohol induced haze, even though she's halfway across the bar. She turns slightly, pushes her hair behind her ear, mouth open in a laugh, and his fingers tighten around the neck of his bottle, heart pounds in his chest.

He was right; she's _so _fucking pretty. Her eyes are scrunched, nearly closed as she laughs, and just the sound of it is already a sound he could get used to listening to for the rest of his life.

She turns slightly then, catches his eye, and she smiles, softly, her eyes bright. He feels his cheeks redden and he ducks his head. His skin feels warm, but not in a bad way. It's probably weird, but he desperately wants to get to know her, desperately wants to know her story, all from one simple look.

"Dude," Sam says, the word drawn out and impossibly slow, "that girl is staring at you."

Finn peeks over at her, and sure enough, she's looking at him still, and when he catches her eye, she gives him the most blinding smile he's ever seen. Hesitantly, he smiles back.

"You should go talk to her," Sam slurs out, and Finn doesn't know if it's the alcohol in his system or if he's just feeling particularly bold, but he finds himself nodding in agreement.

"Yeah," he says, "yeah, I think I will."

Sam grins, slaps him on the back, says "Atta boy!" louder than necessary. Finn gives him a smile of thanks, then looks back toward the girl. She's still looking at him, still smiling, and he doesn't feel _quite_ so intoxicated as he makes his way over to her.

Her face gets clearer as he gets closer, and for a second, he thinks about turning around and heading back to his bar stool, because _holy shit she's so fucking pretty_. Her teeth are really white and her eyes are really brown and he thinks she could really be the death of him.

"Hi," she says brightly as he approaches, red fingernails tapping against the side of her glass.

He opens his mouth, but no sound really comes out, and you'd think, by now, at twenty-four years old, he'd be a little more articulate when it comes to girls. "Hi," he manages to get out, and he does the only thing he can think of doing – he stuffs his hands in his pockets. "You're really pretty." He doesn't remember thinking that those words should come out of his mouth, but they do, and she laughs, her cheeks turning pink, so he thinks that maybe it came off as endearing rather than creepy.

"You can sit down if you want, you know," the girl says, her eyes twinkling, and he assures her that he wants to; he fumbles with the chair, but he manages to pull it out, sitting down on it as gracefully as he knows how, which isn't really graceful at all.

"I'm Finn," he says, because he realizes that she doesn't know his name, and he doesn't know hers. He really wants to know her name, though, wants to know if her name is as beautiful as she is.

"Rachel," she tells him, and he nods, licks his lips. It is beautiful.

"Pretty, like you."

She laughs, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "You already said that," she says, her tone teasing, but she definitely doesn't seem like she wants him to stop complimenting her.

"Right," he says, "sorry, I'm – I'm not very good at this."

"Good at what?" she asks, brow furrowed.

"Uh, talking," he says, and she laughs again. It really is the most beautiful sound he thinks he's ever heard.

"Well, I think you're doing a fine job," she tells him, reaching over to squeeze his arm.

His heart pounds against his ribcage, the rhythm irregular, fast then slow, unpredictable and mystifying. She lets go of him then, and he swallows, manages to get out a shaky laugh.

"So, Finn," she says, "tell me a little about yourself."

"I – I'm here with my friend, Sam," he says, the first thing that popped into his head.

Rachel frowns. "Oh, I didn't realize you were here _with _someone – I never would've—"

Too late, he realizes his mistake, cursing himself internally before backtracking, saying, "No, no, Sam's my roommate, he just made me come out tonight, we're not… I mean…"

"Oh," she says again, biting her lip. A blush colors her cheeks. "I didn't mean to—"

"'S fine," he tells her quickly, and he squeezes her hand like it's the most natural thing in the world. And he thinks that maybe it is, but isn't that ridiculous? Because he's literally just met her, and it makes no sense that he could already feel so comfortable with a girl he barely knows.

"Do you have a last name, Finn?" Rachel asks quietly, and he thinks that she can feel the sparks between them as well.

He clears his throat. "Hudson. What about you?"

"Berry," she replies without missing a beat.

"Rachel Berry." Her name practically falls off his tongue. It fits her, he thinks.

"Finn Hudson," she tries as well, and she's smiling, so he smiles back. "It suits you," she tells him matter-of-factly.

"Yours too." He laughs then, says, "It's weird, though, right? That we think that even though we barely know each other?"

"I don't know," Rachel says, "is it?"

Before he can even open his mouth to answer, she's reaching for his hand, a pen seemingly conjured out of nowhere. "This," she says as she starts to write on his skin, "is my number. My friends will want to go soon, because Tina is well on her way to being trashed, and it's my job to take care of her, so I'll sadly have to leave." She finishes writing, looks up at him, brown eyes bright. She doesn't let go of his hand. "I want you to call me," she says, "because I feel like we have a real connection, don't you?"

He nods dumbly, throat impossibly dry.

A stumbling, giggling girl comes out of nowhere then, wrapping her arms around Rachel, trying to pull her up. "Rachie!" she squeals, the word elongated in her drunken state.

Another girl appears beside her, frowning as she pushes a strand of black hair out of her face. "Rachel," she says, sounding slightly exasperated, "a little help, please."

"Just a second, Santana," Rachel says, extracting herself from the drunken girl's grasp for just a second before she latches onto her arm instead. "_Tina_!" she hisses, but Tina just giggles.

"I'm so sorry," she says to Finn instead, giving him an apologetic smile. "Promise you _will _call me?"

He nods. "Yeah, yeah, I promise."

She flashes him one last dazzling smile, and then her friends drag her through the crowd, and she's gone.

* * *

_ii._

He's been staring at his phone for hours. It's been three days since the bar, three days since he met Rachel Berry, and he can't get his courage up to call her. What if she gives her number out to guys every night? What if he imagined the sparks between them?

(He knows he didn't, though, and somehow he knows that she _doesn't_ do this all the time, and he knows he's just too scared to call her.)

"Why are you even scared?" Sam asks around a mouthful of Doritos, plopping down next to Finn on the couch. "She was _hot_, dude, and _totally_ into you."

Finn frowns, chews the inside of his lip. "I – I don't know, just… what if she's too good to be true?"

Sam rolls his eyes, grabs another handful of chips, the bag rustling as he digs inside. "Well, you'll never know until you call her," he points out, and Finn sighs, because he knows he's right.

"Alright, alright," he relents, and Sam holds up a Dorito-seasoning-covered hand for a high five. Finn just wrinkles his nose. "No thanks, I'll pass."

Sam shrugs, grabbing another Dorito and crunching it loudly. Finn gives him a look, meaningfully glancing between him and the phone, still on the table. Sam remains oblivious.

"Dude," Finn says finally, "uh, do you mind?"

"No, not at all, go ahead," Sam says, reaching for the remote, getting Dorito dust all over it. He turns the tv on, props his feet up on the table.

Finn rolls his eyes, grabbing his phone and heading into his bedroom.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, phone balanced on one knee, his fingertips tapping against the other. He stares at the screen for a few seconds before digging into his pocket and pulling out her number, which he'd scrawled onto a napkin after she had disappeared from the bar. He furrows his brow in concentration as he enters each number carefully, sure to not mess it up, because he can't mess _this_ up. Finally, he's entered every digit, and he takes a deep breath in before he presses the call button.

The phone rings three times before she picks up, her voice a little breathless as she says, "Hello?"

He pauses for a second, then he clears his throat and says, "H-Hey, Rachel, it's, uh, it's Finn, from – from the bar."

He hears a slight fumbling, a few whispers, possibly even a giggle, but then she's saying, "Finn, hi! I thought you might have misplaced my number!"

He wants to kick himself, because he was just acting like a fucking _chicken_, but he manages to say, "No, I uh, I just wasn't…" His palms are sweating and he doesn't think he's ever been this nervous. She makes him so nervous already.

"It's alright, of course," Rachel goes on, thankfully. "After all, I'm not sure about the protocol when it comes to this type of thing. I was just starting to think that maybe I made the whole thing up in my head!"

"No, no, not at all!" he assures her. "I – I really thought we connected."

"We did," Rachel tells him matter-of-factly, "and I'm assuming that you calling is a sign that you'd like to see me again, yes?"

He's a little taken aback, and he nods, momentarily forgetting that she can't see him. He hears only static in his ear, the light sound of breathing, and he remembers, so he quickly adds, "Yeah, I'd definitely like that."

"There's a coffee place on 32nd Street," she says, and he can imagine her smiling, her lips turning up at the corner, tucking her dark hair behind her ear as she presses the phone impossibly closer, "and it's really the best coffee in town. Meet me there tomorrow afternoon. Say, two o'clock?"

"Yeah," he says, "I will definitely be there."

"I look forward to seeing you, Finn," she says, and he honestly thinks he could listen to her say his name for the rest of his life, in every way possible: annoyed when he forgets to do the dishes, ecstatic when he surprises her with flowers when she's exhausted after a day of work, breathless when she comes.

He knows he's getting ahead of himself, feels his cheeks turning red, and he's glad there's an entire phone line between them. "See you, Rachel," he says, and then he hears the click that signifies she's hung up.

He has a goofy smile on his face as he leans back against his headboard, hands behind his head. He has a date with Rachel Berry, and he's sure this is the beginning of something special.

* * *

_iii._

Sam ends up having an artistic breakthrough the next morning, stealing Finn's stash of macaroni he had for the project he's doing with his kindergartners on Monday, so Finn has to stop by the store to get some more before his date with Rachel, and he's five minutes late, and _fuck_, he feels like an asshole.

She's already at a table when he gets there, bottom lip tugged into her mouth by her white teeth, but she immediately brightens when she spots him, waving him over. Her brown eyes are bright, and she stands up when he reaches the table, reaching up to press her lips against his cheek.

He feels his skin burn, and he gently reaches up to press his fingers to the spot where her lips had been. She's already sitting back down, so he hastily sits across from her.

"I already ordered us two black coffees, I hope that's okay," she says, and he notices there are, in fact, two Styrofoam cups on the table, presumably one for each of them.

"That's fine," he tells her, smiling, and he doesn't say that he doesn't even really like coffee, let alone black coffee, because if it means he gets to sit here and talk to her, he'll drink whatever she wants him to.

She smiles back and takes a sip from her own cup. He follows suit, and he tries his best to not make a face when the bitter liquid comes into contact with his tongue.

"Sorry I was late, my roommate stole my macaroni."

She gives him a weird look, so he does his best to backtrack, saying, "I, uh, I teach kindergarten, and the macaroni was so the kids could do macaroni art on Monday, so…"

Rachel laughs, takes another sip of her coffee. "That's cute," she says when she puts the cup down, and she's smiling. "So you're a teacher?"

"Yep," Finn says easily. "It's my second year, and I absolutely love it."

"That's amazing!" Rachel says, and she's got this dimple in her cheek, she's smiling so wide. "So you really like kids then?"

"Love 'em," he affirms, smiling back at her. "They really teach me as much as I teach them, even if it's not, you know, how to tie my shoes or count by fives."

She laughs again, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear before taking another sip of coffee.

"What about you?" he asks. "Teaching's my passion, so what's yours?"

"Theater," she says without missing a beat. "Broadway more specifically." She sighs, wistful, swirling a stirring stick in her coffee. "One day, I'll be on one of those posters in Times Square."

"So you like singing," Finn clarifies.

"Oh, yes," Rachel confirms. "My voice is quite good, I assure you. It sounds like I'm bragging," she adds, looking at him knowingly over the rim of her coffee cup, "but I'm simply stating a fact." (And somehow, he knows that she is, that she really _must _be that good; there's something in her voice that makes him believe her.)

"I'm sure you're brilliant," he says, his heart pounding in his chest because he honestly fucking _sucks _at flirting, but she seems to think he's doing an okay job, because she smiles again.

"Oh, I am," she assures him. "You'll have to come listen to me sing sometime, like maybe in the spring showcase NYADA's putting on."

Finn laughs. "Isn't that the performing arts college?"

Rachel cocks her head, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Well… yeah."

He frowns, and he doesn't really understand, so he asks, "Did you go there or something? Is it like an alumni thing?"

"I… I go there now," Rachel says slowly, her face still concerned. "I'm a junior."

Finn feels like things are getting a little fuzzy, and he doesn't know why, but he can't believe she's still in _college_, that he's on a date with a _college girl_, and it shouldn't matter, but it does, and _fuck_.

"Finn?" Rachel asks, but she sounds so far away. "Are you okay?"

"You're – you're in college?" he manages to get out.

"Yes," she says slowly. She waves a hand in front of his face before pressing her fingers against his forehead. "Finn, are you alright? You don't look so good."

"I – you're in _college_?" he chokes out again, and his voice cracks.

Rachel draws back her hand, and she looks annoyed now. "Yes," she says, somewhat defiantly. "Is that a _problem_?"

"You're – I'm – I can't date a – a student."

"I'm not even _your _student!" Rachel says, her voice rising. "I don't understand what the big deal is, Finn! _Yes_, I'm in college, but that doesn't change the fact that we had a connection, something real and something _tangible_, and suddenly you're treating me like a little girl because I'm still in _school_? You're only a few years out of school yourself, and, forgive me, but I think it's rather cruel of you to assume that you're the mature one in this situation."

Finn can't feel his mouth; it's dry, and he needs water, but all he has is coffee. "Rachel, I—"

"You know what? Save it," Rachel snaps, picking up her messenger back as well as her cup of coffee. She starts to walk away, then stops after a few feet, turns back around to look at him. "You know, I really thought that we could be something special." She laughs, but it's bitter, like the coffee in her hand. "I guess this is what I get for getting ahead of myself."

She deposits the cup in the trash; he calls after her, but she doesn't turn back around. From the window of the shop, he sees her hail a cab, and he swears she brushes underneath her eyes with her fingertips before she climbs inside. Then the cab drives off, and she's gone.

He feels sick, feels _terrible_, because he really, really likes Rachel, but she's just… she's so young, and doesn't she deserve someone who can be on her same page?

_But she wanted you_, the voice in his head nags, and he throws back some coffee to drown it out, but all it leaves him with is a sour taste in his mouth.

* * *

_iv._

He can't stop thinking about her. He knows he doesn't really have the right, knows that he really fucked everything up royally, but he can't stop thinking about her, about her mouth and her eyes and the way her hair fell over one shoulder, but also about the way her brow furrowed in confusion, the way she quickly drew away from him like she'd been burned. Her hurt expression is burned into his memory, and he feels sick knowing that he put it there.

He should just move on, because he still doesn't know how to deal with the fact that she's in school, and even if he did call her up, he wouldn't know what to say.

He goes back to the bar a few nights later, but predictably, she's not there. He didn't really think she would be, but the slight glimmer of hope that she would that was fluttering in his chest dies, and he finishes his drink before he leaves, hands in his pockets, head down, feeling so fucking terrible and not knowing what to do about it.

His brother, Kurt, (well, stepbrother, but that's not really important), stops by the next day for an impromptu lunch, and Finn tries to act super pleased to see him, but he's still really bummed about the whole Rachel thing, so it's just kind of hard. And Kurt totally notices right away.

"Did you get Quinn's wedding invitation in the mail?" Kurt asks, his tone sympathetic, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Finn's shoulder.

Finn furrows his brow, wondering what his ex-girlfriend could have to do with any of this. "Wh – no. Is she getting married?"

Kurt looks momentarily panicked, but then he says, "Well, yes, I suppose. I'm surprised you haven't gotten an invitation, but maybe she and Puck didn't want to put you in an awkward position—"

"No, it's not that I didn't get invited to their wedding," Finn says through gritted teeth, and miraculously, Kurt senses that Finn wishes to drop the subject.

"Sorry," he has quickly, and he removes his hand. "You just look distressed, so I figured that was it."

Finn sighs, sitting against the side of his desk. He rubs tiredly at his eyes. "No," he says finally, "that's not – I'm not _distressed_."

Kurt crosses his arms, raises an eyebrow. "Finn, I know you, possibly better than anyone, and something is clearly bothering you. So if it's not Quinn's wedding, then what is it?"

Finn sighs, and he knows that Kurt won't drop it until he tells him, so he says, "I met a girl."

Kurt's face lights up, and he claps his hands together excitedly. "This is fantastic! Oh, what's her name? How was she dressed?" He gasps dramatically. "Oh, Finn, tell me she's not a fashion disaster."

Finn rolls his eyes. "No, she was – she was really cute, and hot, and like, super pretty, but she's…" He takes in a deep breath, looking at the ceiling instead of Kurt's face. "She's in college."

He sneaks a peek at Kurt after he doesn't say anything, and to his surprise, Kurt's expression is blank. "So?" he says finally.

"She's – I'm twenty-four!" Finn protests.

"So she's eighteen?"

"No, twenty, I think."

"Finn Hudson, you are an idiot."

"Wait, what?"

"Did you like this girl?" Kurt asks.

"Yeah, a lot," Finn answers truthfully. "She's – she's different from everyone else. She felt… well, for the first time in my life, she just felt really… real."

"Then _so what_?!" Kurt asks in frustration. "Four years isn't that big of a deal! Look at our parents – Burt and Carole – he's six years older and they're just fine!"

"But… she's still in school."

"I really don't see what that's a big deal for you. She's legal; she's not much younger than you. Why should the fact that she's in school matter?"

"She's – she's a kid," Finn says, but his voice is weaker now; he's losing his resolve. He doesn't really know why it's such a big deal anymore, the way Kurt is laying it all out.

"She's twenty!" Kurt says exasperatedly. "You're only four years older than her, and she's not one of your kindergartners. You shouldn't be treating her like one. She's a grown woman who can make her own decisions, and for some reason, it looks like she decided upon you."

Finn sighs. He knows Kurt's right. "Well, I kind of screwed everything up," he says finally, "and I don't really know how to fix it."

Kurt smiles then, giving him a small squeeze on the shoulder. "Don't you worry about that. I'm here to help, little brother."

Finn rolls his eyes, because Kurt's only _three months older_, but he lets it slide. For the first time since Rachel left him in the coffee shop, he feels the weight lift slightly from his chest. He feels like things could actually be looking up.

* * *

_v._

Kurt drills him about every little thing he knows about Rachel, which doesn't end up being much, and he feels a pang, thinking that if he hadn't been such an idiot, he could already know so much more. Kurt finally decides that the biggest gesture Finn could make, based on the information Finn is able to provide, is for him to go to her spring showcase at NYADA.

"It's obviously a big deal to her," Kurt tells him knowingly, fixing his tie one last time before it starts, "so if this doesn't work, nothing will."

"Well, that's comforting," Finn mutters, shifting the bouquet in his hand – daisies, upon Kurt's suggestion. ("She seems like the type of girl who would appreciate a bouquet of daisies, just trust me.") The room is smaller than he would've expected, and round, with a weird sort of orange lighting. Kurt looks absolutely _thrilled_ to be here ("Musical theater is _my life_, Finn," he tells his stepbrother emphatically, and Finn thinks about all of the other things that have been Kurt's _life_ – fashion, _Project Runway_, and his boyfriend, Blaine, to name a few), eyes bright.

The lights flash then, and Kurt leans over to whisper that that means the show will be starting soon. Finn swallows the lump that has seemed to form in his throat.

Rachel's up first, and she determinedly takes the stage, her expression seemingly never faltering, but he notices that her hands shake, almost infinitesimally, as she grips the microphone. He's worried about her, and he hopes she doesn't, like, pass out or something, but then the piano starts playing and she opens her mouth and begins to sing, and he's _floored_. Her voice is so powerful and so _amazing_ that he sort of forgets to breathe for a minute, his eyes trained on her. He thinks his jaw has gone slack, but he can't look away, can't consider how he's lived his entire life without hearing her voice. She has the voice of an angel.

She's almost crying by the end of her number, and Kurt's looking at him funny. After pressing two fingers against his cheek, he realizes that he was sort of crying, too.

He can't even really focus on the other performers, and he knows that there's no way any of them will be able to come close to Rachel. After a while, they're applauding some guy who did a rather strange rendition of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," complete with cymbals, and then the woman who started the program – Carmen Something, he thinks – is standing up and heading to the front of the room.

"We'd like to thank all of the students who participated in tonight's showcase," she begins, "and you all did extremely well, and we're so proud of you. There is, however," she says, pausing for dramatic effect, "one winner."

She looks around the room, and Finn feels his heart pounding, even though he's not one of the contestants.

"This year's spring showcase winner is Miss Rachel Berry."

Before Finn even knows what he's doing, he's on his feet, clapping, and other people are standing as well, all cheering for Rachel, and he knows she doesn't see him, but he smiles anyway. He even wolf whistles once or twice (well, until Kurt elbows him in the ribs and hisses that he needs to be quiet), and he almost catches Rachel's eye as she accepts her trophy, but she's smiling so wide her eyes are nearly closed, so he thinks maybe he made that bit up.

Kurt claps Finn on the shoulder as people start to leave, says he'll meet him out by the car, and Finn follows him out into the hallway. He watches his brother disappear into the distance, and there's nothing but him and his pounding heartbeat among a sea of strangers.

He stands there for what seems like forever, feeling like an idiot in a suit with a bouquet of flowers, and he's beginning to think that Rachel's not coming, that she ducked out a side door or something, but then she comes around the corner so fast that she nearly runs into him.

"I'm so sorry," she says, shifting her trophy so that it's not about to impale him. She looks up at him then, and her eyes widen. "Finn? What – what are you doing here?"

He kind of stares at her for a minute, because he forgot how pretty she is up close, but then he realizes that she's still looking at him questioningly, eyebrows raised and brow furrowed. He clears his throat, holds out the flowers. "These are for you," he says quickly.

"Daisies," she says slowly, but she doesn't look upset. "I – I love daisies, thank you."

There's a beat of awkward silence, then he says, "You were – you were amazing, Rachel."

Her cheeks turn pink with pleasure.

"Like, _so_ good," he goes on, "and – and I'm not just saying that because I was an asshole to you, even though I was, an asshole, I mean, but you're like, so talented, and I'm so sorry that kind of screwed this thing up before it even began, because I really, really do like you, and God, you look so pretty tonight."

"Is this an apology?" Rachel breaks in. "Because it's getting a little longwinded."

"Yeah, it is," he says quietly, looking into her warm, brown eyes. "You're really cool, Rachel, and when I found out that you were still in school I got a little scared, but now… I don't know, I guess I realized that – that if two people share a connection this strong, it shouldn't really matter, the other stuff."

Rachel surveys him for a second, looking pensive. "You came here to see me?" she clarifies.

"Yeah."

"And you decided that you don't care that I'm twenty years old and that I'm finishing up my junior year of college, that the connection we had outweighs that?"

He nods. His heart's pounding again.

After what seems like an eternity, she smiles. "It's about time, Finn Hudson."

He smiles back at her, and then she's shifting her bouquet into the crook of her arm so she can hold her trophy with one hand and his hand with the other. He smiles, squeezes her hand before lacing their fingers together.

She smiles up at him, telling him that if he wants, he can give her a ride back to her apartment so she won't have to take the subway, and he tells her he'd love to.

He remembers Kurt, then, so he adds, "First, though, there's someone I want you to meet."

* * *

_vi._

Kurt and Rachel chat all the way back to the upper east side, where Kurt's apartment is, and Finn has to practically kick Kurt out of the car so he can drive to Rachel's. They get along so well that it kind of bothers him almost, because Rachel's _his_… well, his someone.

He drops Kurt off, though, and he holds Rachel hand the whole drive over to her apartment, and she even kisses him once he parks in the parking garage, her hand on his knee and his on the steering wheel. Her lips are soft against his, but firm, just the right amount of pressure.

She's smiling when she pulls away, asks him if he'd like to come for a bit.

He swallows, then, when he finds his voice, says yes.

* * *

_vii._

He thinks Rachel's his girlfriend, sort of, although they haven't expressly said so. They kiss and they hold hands and he really, _really_ wants her to be his girlfriend, because he knows that he doesn't want to be with anyone else, and he thinks she feels the same way, but he's not, like, one-hundred-percent-sure.

Kurt just rolls his eyes when Finn brings this up, saying, "Well then for God's sake Finn just _ask_ her."

Finn glares at him, but he knows that his brother is right.

He knows he kind of owes it to Rachel to make this special, especially after the whole fiasco their first date was, between him being late and then crushing her feelings, so he invites her over for dinner at his place, and he tries to make it perfect. He organizes a sort of homemade picnic on his living room floor, complete with vegan cuisine, as per Rachel's dietary restrictions, and the smile on her face when she sees it tells him that it's all worth it.

"You did all of this for me?" she asks, sitting precariously on the edge on the blanket, and he smiles as he sits down beside her, grabbing her arm and pulling her closer to him.

"Well, yeah," he says quietly, and she looks up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "I know I was a total jerk to you at first, and I just… I've realized that throwing this – us – away would've been the stupidest mistake of my life, and I wanna make it up to you."

"Oh, Finn," she says quietly, her voice sweet as she traces his jaw with her fingertips, "you already have."

He swallows. "In – in that case, do you think you could do something for me?"

Her brow furrows slightly, but she nods. "Anything."

His throat's suddenly dry, but she's looking at him so intently and her skin is so warm underneath his palm that he knows he has to press onward. "Would you… d'you think you'd wanna be my girlfriend?"

She smiles, a wide, broad smile that splits her face in two in the best way possible. "Yes, Finn, I'd like that very much," she tells him, and he can barely say, "Great," before she's tackling him, his back pressed against the blanketed floor as she lands on top of him. She's laughing, so he laughs, and he can see every single one of her eyelashes, black and separated by mascara, can see the chocolate-brown of her eyes. She stops laughing and she seems to be studying him as well, and he wonders if she's memorizing his freckles, the curve of his eyebrow, the slant of his nose.

There's not a sound except for their steady breathing, and he leans up to press his lips against hers. She responds almost immediately, her mouth molding to his, her fingers rooting themselves into his hair. He groans, shifts so she's straddling his thigh, and they've made out before, but his hands grip her waist a little tighter, her breathing is a little more ragged, and somehow, he knows that this time is different.

Her kisses are insistent, messier than usual, as she trails them down his jaw, his neck, presses her lips against his collar bone, nips a little at his skin. He hisses, squeezes her ass, and she grinds into his thigh. He pulls her face back up to his and he feels himself go hard as he kisses her again, his tongue sliding into her mouth. She moans, and then she's dipping her fingers into the waistband of his jeans and _fuck_.

"R-Rach," he manages to choke out, but she's already unbuttoning his jeans and her hands are wrapping around him and he thinks he honestly sees stars. "I – we don't have to—"

"I want to," she whispers against the skin of his skin, pressing her mouth there briefly, her fingers squeezing him lightly. "I – I want this Finn. Don't you?"

All he can do is nod, and she beams, removing her hand from his pants so she can sit up and pull her shirt over her head. He kind of can't stop staring at her boobs, even though she's still wearing a bra, but she just giggles and says he can touch them if he wants to and boy does he fucking want to, so he does. They're soft and warm and she moans when he squeezes them and then suddenly he's shirtless as well and she's sliding off her skirt, and his pants are off, and he has to admit that he didn't imagine things would escalate this quickly (although he's certainly not complaining).

Before he knows it, she's rolling a condom onto his length and telling him to take her, to make her his, and well, who is he to deny her? So he pushes into her and she moans, and she's so fucking tight he knows he's probably not going to last that long, but her legs are wrapping around his waist and digging into his ass and she's telling him _faster harder please Finn please_, so he moves and she moves with him. He snakes his hand between them, tries to make things better for her, and then she's whimpering his name, _Finn oh Finn_, over and over again, and he thinks it might be the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

She's shaking and he's shaking and once she tumbles over the edge he's sure to follow, his breathing ragged with hers, his fingers softly brushing the hair from her eyes afterward.

"Hi," she whispers, and he grins, nuzzles his nose against hers.

"Hi," he whispers back.

"That was – that was good."

"That was _amazing_."

She smiles, hooks her leg behind his, kisses his chin. "It was, wasn't it? Aren't you glad you decided I'd be worth it after all?"

He smiles, kisses her forehead. "Baby, I'd figure it out eventually."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, I'm glad you figured it out when you did."

"Me, too," he tells her, and she curls into his side, one arm draped over his chest. "Me, too."

* * *

_viii._

He gets the invitation to Quinn's wedding a week after he and Rachel become official. He also receives an email from Quinn claiming that it got lost the first time around, but he figures she and Puck were just debating about whether or not to invite him, and yeah, it could be kind of awkward, so he understands why. After all, she did cheat on him with his best friend when they were dating, and they haven't exactly stayed in touch.

Kurt thinks he should go, and that maybe if he brings Rachel as his date he'll finally be able to move on and be done with it once and for all, but he's not so sure. He knows he should at least fill Rachel in, though, especially since she's his girlfriend now.

She has a class that ends at four on Thursdays, and he usually meets her afterwards and drives her either back to his place or hers, and this Thursday is no exception. He kisses her on the cheek after she comes flouncing around the corner, and she quickly loops her arm through his, gripping his hand tightly. He smiles as she leans into him, telling him about her absolutely _horrid _dance professor, Miss July, who is convinced Rachel will never make it on Broadway.

"She's just jealous that her time was over before it really began," Rachel tells him knowingly, and seeing his confused expression, she adds, "She had an extremely short stint on Broadway. I'll show you the meltdown when we get back to your apartment."

"Okay," he agrees. He pauses, his heart pounding, then adds, "Actually, there's something I need to tell you."

Rachel frowns, looking slightly worried. "Finn, is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine," he assures her, giving her hand a squeeze. "I just… I don't know where to start, I guess."

"The beginning always seems to be a good place," Rachel prods, and he nods.

"I – I started dating Quinn in high school." This clearly isn't what Rachel was expecting judging by her expression, but she doesn't say anything, so he goes on. "I was the quarterback and she was the head cheerleader and we were, like, the biggest cliché in the history of the planet, but we worked, and I was content. Like, I don't know, looking back I guess I wasn't exactly _happy_, but at the time I thought I was, and I thought she was, too. Until she cheated on me with my best friend the summer before college."

"Oh, Finn," Rachel murmurs, her fingers gently squeezing his arm.

"It – it sucked, and it really screwed me up for a while," he admits quietly. "Like, Kurt thinks that maybe part of the reason I was using your age to push you away was because we had such a strong connection, and that I was afraid of you hurting me like Quinn hurt me, and I think he might be right."

"I would never—" she starts.

"I know that now," he tells her gently, and he cups her cheek, runs his fingers across her skin. "She just… she made me feel like shit for a really long time, and I didn't know how to handle it, but now, I think I do."

Rachel's brow dips in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Quinn's getting married, to Puck, the guy who was my best friend, this weekend," Finn tells her, "and I'd really, really love it if you agreed to go with me."

"Finn, are you sure—"

"Yes," he tells her, taking her hands in his own. "Before you, I don't know if I could do it, but… if you're there with me… I don't know, I think maybe anything's possible."

Rachel has sort of an unreadable look on her face, then she launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He catches her, holds her tightly to him, breathes in the strawberry scent of her hair that's already become so comforting, so familiar.

"I'm so glad you were at that bar that night, Finn Hudson," she tells him as he pulls away.

He smiles, and then he frowns. "Wait a minute, if you're twenty how were you even _in_ the bar in the first place?"

Rachel smiles sheepishly, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "Fake ID," she tells him cheekily.

"Rachel Berry," he says, feigning shock, and she hits him lightly on the chest.

"Oh, shut up," she says, "like you've never had a fake ID before."

"Nope, I was always a law-abiding citizen, even when I was your age."

She rolls her eyes. "I hate when you talk like an old man."

"You love it."

"You act like you're ninety and that you're robbing the cradle."

"I am. The plastic surgery went really well, don't you think?"

She rolls her eyes, but she's still smiling. "You're something else," she tells him finally.

"Something good?" he asks.

"Something wonderful," she tells him, and then she grips his shoulders and kisses him full on the mouth.

He wears a bit of a goofy grin for the rest of the walk out to his car, her hand still firmly encased in his own, and he wonders how he ever thought he could go without Rachel Berry.

* * *

_ix._

Rachel has her last final during the first week of May and starts immediately auditioning for chorus parts in various Broadway shows, while Finn continues teaching until the end of the month. The end of the school year is a little bittersweet for him, because it's his last few weeks with this particular group of kids, and he's really, really enjoyed being their teacher and watching them, like, develop into little people, as cheesy as it may sound.

They also start going over to Kurt's apartment for dinner once every few weeks, and sometimes Kurt invites other people, but more often than not, it's just Finn and Rachel and Blaine, Kurt's boyfriend. Rachel and Kurt get along so well (_much_ better than Kurt and any other girlfriend of Finn's) that Kurt threatens to never help Finn pick out clothes ever again if he ever does anything to hurt Rachel. (Finn points out that that would probably hurt Kurt more than it would hurt him, but Kurt sort of pointedly ignores that part.)

Sometimes Kurt teases Finn about dating a younger woman, but Rachel always says that four years _isn't_ that big of a deal, and isn't Kurt two years older than Blaine? She usually makes a point of kissing Finn then, and he can't say he minds that part in the least.

His mom and stepdad even show up to one of the dinners, so she meets his parents, and they absolutely _love_ her (not that he expected anything less). He swears his mom starts crying a little bit when Rachel leans her head on his shoulder and he kisses her forehead, but he can't be sure. He asks her about it later, and she just shrugs and says, "You're just… you're different with her, Finny. Different in a good way," she's sure to add.

"You don't… you don't think it's, like, weird that she's still in college, or anything?"

His mom rolls her eyes. "Heavens, no! That stuff doesn't matter anyway," she tells him, waving her hand dismissively. "Burt is six years older than me, you know. And with your father, there was a three year age gap."

He gives her a small smile. "I know," he tells her.

"If you have a connection, Finn, age really is just a number, especially when you're older. Twenty-four and twenty isn't even that big of one in the least, I promise, especially from how I've seen you and Rachel."

"Yeah?" he asks, despite himself.

She squeezes his shoulder. "Yeah. You really like her, don't you, Finny?"

He swallows. He thinks he might _love_ her, but he sort of thinks he should tell Rachel that before he tells his mom, so he settles for, "Yeah, I really do."

His mom smiles, kisses his cheek, tells him she's proud of him, and it still feels good, making her proud. Plus the fact that she loves Rachel is just an added bonus.

Rachel reemerges then, letting them know that Kurt says dinner is ready, and he must be smiling even wider than usually, because she gives him an odd look.

"What are you so chipper about?" she demands.

His grin widens as he slips an arm around her waist. "I just like hanging out with you, like a lot."

She laughs, but she doesn't pull away. "Well, I like hanging out with you, too, Finn."

He nuzzles his nose into her hair before whispering in her ear, "My mom loves you, by the way."

He sees her flush with pleasure as she bites her lip. "She does?"

He nods. "Really, really."

She grins, hugging his waist before standing on her tiptoes and pressing her lips briefly to his.

"Finn! Rachel!" Finn reluctantly pulls away from her to turn to his glaring stepbrother, hands on his hips. "I _slaved_ over this meal, so if you could peel yourselves away from each other for a few moments to eat it that would be _lovely_. You can go back to sucking each other's faces like a couple of teenagers afterwards, I promise."

Rachel's face burns, but Finn just ignores Kurt and kisses her again. He hears Kurt huff, and he even think he might even stomp his foot melodramatically, but he just keeps kissing Rachel until she's pushing against his chest.

"Finn," she says imploringly, but he just shrugs.

"It was a box dinner anyway."

* * *

_x._

Quinn's wedding falls mid-June, and it's back in Ohio, where Finn grew up. Rachel's extremely stoked about visiting the Midwest because she's never been before, and Finn kind of finds it hilarious because she's sure to find out very quickly just how not exciting the Midwest can be.

They get a room in the one nice hotel in Lima, arriving a whole two days before the wedding because Rachel wants him to show her around town. She ignores him when he insists that there's really nothing to see, saying, "Finn, this place is where you grew up. Of course I want to see everything, and of course it's interesting."

He just sighs and chooses not to fight her, and that's how they end up visiting his old high school. He's kind of surprised they can just, like, walk around during the day even though there are students around and stuff, but he shows Rachel his old locker and his old classrooms, and they even run into his old glee club sponsor, Mr. Schuester, and they talk for a while.

"I didn't know you were in glee club," Rachel says, her eyes lighting up.

Finn rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, well, we kind of sucked, so…"

"I remember you specifically being better than alright, Finn," Mr. Schue says, clapping him on the shoulder, and Finn thinks he's going to start resembling a tomato, he's so red.

"You never told me you could sing!" Rachel says, an accusing note in her voice.

"I'm not nearly as good as you," he tells her, but she still seems indignant.

"Finn," she says, her voice carefully regulated, "are you aware of how many karaoke competitions we could've won by now?"

He laughs, wraps an arm around her shoulders, presses a kiss against her hair. "This is why I didn't tell you," he teases, and he winks at Mr. Schue.

"Finn, I'm being serious!" she protests, and he rubs her back, tells her he knows. He lets Mr. Schue know that they'll see him at the wedding, then he leads Rachel out to the football field, sitting her down on the bleachers.

She blinks in the bright sunlight, holding one hand up to shield her eyes from the blinding light. "What are we doing out here?"

Finn doesn't answer, just walks out onto the field. He turns back to where Rachel's sitting. "This," he says, raising his voice so it'll carry, "is where I felt most at home in high school."

He sees Rachel smile, smoothing her skirt as she stands up, stepping down onto the field and making her way over to him. "I remember," she says. "You told me you were quarterback of the football team."

He nods. "We won a state championship, actually."

Rachel smiles, closing the distance between them. "Thank you," she says simply after a moment.

His brow furrows. "For what?" he asks in confusion.

"For bringing me here," she says. She looks around the empty stadium. "For showing me things that really matter to you and helped shape you into the person you are today." She looks back at him, takes her hands in her own. He thinks about how much smaller hers are than his, and he grips hers a little tighter. "For letting me in," she finishes, looking him in the eye.

He smiles, leaning down to press his mouth against hers. "I really want you to know me," he tells her when he pulls away, cupping her face with his hand.

"I want you to know me, too," she tells him, and then she kisses him again.

They pull away when they hear a bell go off in the distance, but she doesn't let go off his hand as he leads her off the football field and back to his high school parking lot. He glances down at her, and he smiles.

He doesn't think he's ever met a girl even close to being as awesome as Rachel Berry.

* * *

_xi._

The dress Rachel decides to wear to the wedding makes him want to throw back onto the bed in their hotel room and skip the wedding altogether. It's red and cuts off at her knee, with a plunging neckline, and he has to swallow several times before he finally finds his voice, choking out that she looks beautiful. Rachel just smirks at him, gripping his tie and gently pecking his lips before whispering that they better get going, or else they'll be late.

They sit near the back of the church, a few seats down from Mr. Schue and his wife, Emma, with Kurt and Blaine and Finn's parents in the pew in front of them. The ceremony starts shortly thereafter, all of the groomsmen filing in with the bridesmaids, and Puck even gives Finn a small smile as he passes his pew. Finn doesn't really feel the familiar squeezing feeling in his chest he's come to expect when dealing with anything relating to his former best friend and his ex-girlfriend, and he thinks that maybe Rachel has something to do with it.

She seems to tense when the wedding march begins to play, everyone standing up and turning toward the back, ready for a glimpse of the bride. Quinn really does look beautiful, with her blonde hair in ringlets, veil falling at her exposed shoulders, strapless gown brushing the ground. He doesn't look at her when she passes, however; he looks down at Rachel instead.

She blushes under his gaze, but he kisses her cheek, hoping to convey that she has nothing to worry about. She seems to understand, and he notices that she doesn't stop smiling throughout the ceremony, her hand never leaving his.

It's not too long until the priest is proclaiming Puck and Quinn to be husband and wife, and as Finn claps along with everyone else, he sort of feels like this huge weight he didn't even realize he'd been carrying around had been lifted. He thinks that maybe the thing he needed in order to get over the pain Quinn and Puck had caused was to just find the right person, and he has no doubt in his mind that that person is Rachel. He doesn't think he's ever been this happy, and he's so glad she was placed in his life, even if he was reluctant at first.

Someone somewhere knew this was exactly where he belonged.

* * *

_xii._

Rachel catches the bouquet at the wedding, so she ends up sharing a dance with Jacob Ben Israel, this creep from high school who ran the school paper, because he's the fortunate soul who caught the garter. She keeps making faces at Finn, and he can't help but laugh, because Jacob keeps trying to whisper in her ear and she keeps jerking her head back in order to keep him from doing so.

He stops laughing when Jacob tries to grab her ass, swiftly stepping in and saying he'll take it from here, thank you. Rachel smiles up at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"My knight in shining armor," she teases.

"Nah, I just want your ass all to myself."

"It's yours," she promises, "just like I am."

He smiles, and without really thinking about it, says, "I love you." The words just sort of fall out, and he knows he means them.

Rachel blinks once, twice, then smiles, wide and slow. "I love you, too." Her fingers press against the back of his neck, and she tilts her head up, so he knows she wants him to kiss her, so he does. He feels her smile against his mouth, and her fingers lock around his neck.

"Thanks for saving me," she whispers when she pulls away. Noting his confused expression, she adds, "From the creep I was dancing with."

"Oh, yeah, Ben Israel." He rolls his eyes. "It's what I'm here for, babe."

She bites her lip. "I like it when you call me babe."

"Yeah?"

She nods. "Yeah, no one's really called me babe before, or, well, any pet names really, my fathers aside, of course."

He pales a little bit, as he always does when she mentions her dads, because, _yes_, she has two of them, and that's pretty intimidating.

"Speaking of my dads, it's probably about time that you met them, isn't it?"

Yeah, he's definitely going to throw up.

"Finn?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, meeting the dads, yeah I should… uh, I should get on that."

She narrows her eyes. "Don't you want to meet my fathers, Finn?"

"Yeah, of course I do," he says hastily, "I'm just… I'm _terrified_, Rach."

"Why?" she asks in surprise.

"I mean… you have _two_ dads," he says exasperatedly. "There's no way they're going to think I'm good enough for their little girl."

"Finn," she says reproachfully, "of _course_ you're good enough."

"What if they don't think so?" he asks. "What if they think I'm too old for you or – or holding you back or something?"

"They won't," she tells him, her voice calm and sure, "because I don't think any of that, and they trust my judgment."

He sighs, tightening his hold on her waist.

"Finn, look at me," she demands, and she lightly grips his chin. "My dads are going to love you, because I love you, okay? They'll see how happy you make me, and that will be good enough for them."

He smiles despite himself. "Okay," he agrees.

"We should do dinner on Wednesday," she says as they start to sway once more. "Does Wednesday work for you?"

"Wednesday's perfect," he tells her. He pulls her even closer. "Absolutely perfect."

* * *

_xiii._

They go back to the bar where they met for Rachel's birthday in December. He invites her dads along (because, yeah, Rachel was right, they really _do_ love him, and they think that he's a good, strong, positive influence in Rachel's life, which kind of made him blush a ridiculous amount, but he'd rather have this than them hating his guts), but they say that they'll meet them for dinner the following night, that the two of them should have some fun without them.

Rachel orders a bunch of fruity drinks and is tipsy in no time. Finn just has a beer or two, because he knows he's supposed to take care of her tonight (not that he minds in the least). Rachel's friend Tina is somehow even drunker than Rachel, and her other friend, Santana, is getting completely irritated by both of them, constantly reiterating that she _hates _babysitting their drunk asses, and if it weren't Rachel's birthday, she'd be dragging them both _home_.

Rachel's kind of a hands-y drunk, and when she starts trying to give him a handjob in the middle of the bar, he figures that's his cue to take her home. He asks Santana if she's okay to handle Tina, and she rolls her eyes, says, "I'm not some _amateur_, Mr. Rogers," and he shrugs, ignoring her jab at his age and escorting Rachel out of the bar. He manages to get her into his car and heads back to his apartment with little objection from her, and she's pretty much half asleep until he manages to get her inside the apartment.

"Finny?" she mutters, looking around blearily.

"Shh, I'm here, Rach," he says, brushing her hair out of her eyes.

She smiles up at him, eyes half closed as she sits down on the couch.

He frowns. "Rach, don't you wanna go to bed?"

She pouts. "It's my birthday, Finny."

"I know," he says cautiously.

"I wanna cuddle."

He laughs. "Okay, birthday girl, we can cuddle." He sits down on the couch beside her, holding up his arm so she can curl into his side.

She burrows into him, sighing contentedly, her fingers lazily brushing across his stomach, over the fabric of his t-shirt.

"Did you have a good birthday?" he whispers.

"The best," she murmurs back. "Only one thing could make it better."

"What's that, baby girl?"

Her hand dips lower, beneath the waistband of his pants, her lips pressing against his neck. He just laughs, turning to kiss her on the mouth instead. This time when she attempts to give him a handjob, he doesn't stop her.

* * *

_xiv._

She graduates from college the following May, and he's so incredibly proud of her. She looks adorable in her cap and gown, and she even performs at the ceremony. He whoops when her name is called, her fathers happily joining in, and she grins at them, giving them a small wave as she walks from the stage. He's so incredibly proud of her, because she already has the lead role in an off-Broadway production lined up starting next week, and she's going to do _so _many great things, he knows it.

She practically tackles him after the ceremony, and he swings her around before setting her back down on her feet. "You were amazing, baby," he tells her earnestly, and she just grins.

"Dad, Daddy, you are more than welcome to spend the afternoon with Finn and me at our apartment," she tells them, snaking an arm around Finn's waist and leaning her head against his chest. "I can make my fabulous vegetable soup and we can call it a late lunch?"

Rachel's dad smiles at the pair of them, and he winks at Finn. "That sounds splendid, sweetie. We'd be delighted."

Rachel claps excitedly, then asks them if they thought she sounded a little flat in ceremony solo, ignoring them when they all insist she was perfect, and Finn thinks about the ring that's sitting in his pocket. Her fathers know, of course, already gave him permission to marry their baby girl, but he's still kind of nervous thinking about it.

It'll come later, though, and she'll insist that she knew all along that he was going to ask her, just like she knew all along that they were destined to be together, even if he was a little hesitant at first. She likes to say that if things are meant to be, they'll fall into place, and if there's one thing he knows, it's that he's meant to be with Rachel.

If he thinks about it, maybe he's not so scared after all.

* * *

**thank you so much for reading, and, as always, it would really mean a lot to me if you left a review! :)**


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